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My love Gretel has been in the wrong part of the world for too long. But soon she’ll be back where she belongs. I’m starting to anticipate her arrival. I’m starting to make plans. One of the first things that will happen to her is that I’m going to put her pver my knee, and give her a long and memorable spanking. Skin to bare skin.

Why is that such a priority, in my imagination, and – I’m certain – in actuality? What is this? Why do I like this so much?

There are visual pleasures to be had from spanking Gretel. The sight of her flesh rippling and firming under my hand as each smack lands. Her face frowning in concentration, a slight pursing of her mouth with each blow. I’ve watched these things with absorption, and been amazed by their, and her, beauty.

When I make the smacks harder I can watch the changes in her skin, the instant of pallor directly under my hand at the instant of contact, and study it as it blushes to pink as the blood rushes to the assaulted skin.

At first I can see individual prints, my palm, fingers and thumb marked on her like the painted hand on Paleolithic cave walls. But those marks soon merge into one large red blotch covering her buttocks and upper thighs.

As I continue, slowly building up the force of the smacks, she gives me movements to watch, the rocking of her hips and buttocks as she presses down against me and then offers herself up in answering rhythm to my hand. She tucks her hair behind her ears, but when she’s in spanked-girl motion on my knee it falls forward over her face.

There are tactile pleasures, the curved planes of her buttocks and thighs under my hand, soft when I touch her gently, firmly rebounding when I touch more fiercely. It feels so sensual. I love the impact of my palm against her muscles, and the reactions of her body in that second of impact.

Those sensations are all the more intense for only lasting for an instant. Gretel’s body pressed against mine, her hips slowly pumping, moving under my hand: I’m achingly aware of every silken micro-movement of her belly or her thighs.

There are sounds, too: the clap of skin against skin and her occasional answering grunts. And there are our own heady smells.

There’s another thing, though. There’s a strange, almost telepathic intimacy between us when I heat and mark her. I know that the sting in my hand is only a distant echo of the much fiercer pain in her bottom and thighs. I wouldn’t like that sensation myself, but I seem to have some sense of the way in which Gretel experiences it as pleasure. That means I can feel that pleasure along with her. I also know, just as surely as I know that I felt her pleasure, that she can feel some of my my pleasure in watching her, holding her, and spanking her incredible, beautiful ass and thighs.

He smiled down at me, freshly orgasmic, freshly spanked, over his knee. I’d just asked him to fuck me, and I’d meant it. He put his hand back on my poor, sensitive bottom, and said, “No, Maddie. You know this isn’t the right night. I want it to be special for you.”

I thought of arguing with him. But it seemed such a silly thing that I just giggled. He looked puzzled. “What, girl?”

“I feel very special right now, sir. And I want you to… fuck me.”

I don’t know for sure, but that may be Ornella Muti’s (Princess Aurora in Flash Whoo-ah! Gordon) daughter.

“No, Sir.” Then I laughed again. “You can fuck me whenever you like.” It sounded like such a strange thing to say to a man. I felt so grown-up over his knee, so forward, and so good, and so happy.

“Oh, girl, I certainly will. You don’t want to have any choice on that, do you?”

I had to think about that. Then I said, truly, “No, I don’t. That’s what ‘whenever you like’ means. Always, Sir. Not just the first time.”

He spanked me again, six smacks, not hard. They hurt me, but I knew he wanted me to feel good. I did.

“Thank me for your spanking, Maddie.”

“Oh, yes, Sir! Thank you for spanking me. And thank you for making me come. It was glorious. If you don’t mind me saying, Sir.”

He rubbed me where he’d spanked. I was ready to come again. He just had to… Then it struck that he didn’t have to do anything. I was the one who had to do things. My life wasn’t going to be fair. It was just going to be hot. At last he said, “I don’t mind you saying, at all, Maddie. I’m pleased with you. In every way. You’re a good girl. A perfect girl. You can be proud of that.”

“Sir.” I waggled my bottom at him. I hoped… Well, you know what I hoped.

He said, “But you need to get up now. Put your feet on the floor.” He helped me up, still naked. “Keep your back to the fire, girl. Hands on head.”

I obeyed, and he disappeared for a while. He reappeared with my clothes, an iron and ironing board. “You can iron, I take it.”

“Better than my mother, Sir.”

He set up the board and plugged the iron. “All right. Show me.”

I reached for my panties – they didn’t need ironing. He strode over quickly, held me, and bent me forward at the waist. His hand landed on my bottom, once, twice, then six times, then ten, and I wondered, yelping and writhing and squealing apologies, how long this spanking was going to go on for. This time he really was punishing me.

It hurt. Physically, I mean. I felt so bad for doing something that made me deserve it, too. He stopped at thirty smacks, though I didn’t stop wriggling, and hopping from foot to foot for a while afterwards. My poor little ass really hurt. I wanted to rub it better, but I knew that I did that without his permission I’d feel his belt, or worse.

“Maddie. You will never dress yourself in my presence, without my express permission. Is that clear?”

“I should think not. In fact, whenever you’re here, you undress at the door. You do not have the right to wear clothes in this house, unless I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” I was so sorry.

“Now iron your skirt and your shirt. I’ll watch.”

He was smiling again. My heart lifted, with that. I remembered the fantasy I’d had in the bath, about being Miss Sexy Girl with an iron. So I stood further from the ironing board than I usually do, so that I had to bend at the waist.

And I began, basking in his eyes. I, uh, was finding that I don’t mind the male gaze. If it’s the right male.

While I worked, he told me he’d made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow morning.

He’d take me. We were going to do tests for pregnancy and swabs to test for STDs. And, he said, I might need to take the morning after pill.

That could be easy, but there was also a chance it could make me feel very bad. So he’d bring me here again tomorrow, so he could look after me.

The morning after pill at didn’t sound like much fun. But I realised that he wasn’t going to fuck me till all this had been dealt with, and I was ok. That made sense. I wasn’t getting what I wanted, but he was taking care of me.

Eventually, I finished, and uniform was all crisp and warm again. He looked at me very seriously. “You may get dressed now, Maddie.”

When I’d finished, he held me in his arms and kissed me. I felt him getting hard again. So did he, because he suddenly stopped. “Come on, girl. I’d better take you home.”

“It’s nice that you’re holding me,” Maddie said. “I appreciate that you do care about me. You sadistic bastard.” I pinched her nipple, hard. “Ow! No, seriously, I do like it that you care about me. May I rub, sir?”

“No. I meant to hurt you. Stay where you are and hurt, Maddie.”I resumed the pressure on her nipple, a little harder.

She nodded. “Thank you, sir. And I do love that you’re cruel, and that you care about me. But I didn’t tell you that story so you’d sympathise with me.”

I let go of her nipple then, getting a gasp of pain from her. Then I rubbed and pressed it soothingly, since someone had to. “It’s a parable?”

“Yes. I don’t mean, watch out or someone will rape Jennifer. I’m not being that exact. It’s just that I think it’d be a pity for you and a tragedy for her if you both missed out on having each other.” She laughed. “Together! For the first time!”

I tweaked that nipple again, in warning, and cupped her breast with my hand.

“Mmm. But I worry that you and she will miss out on something that would be very special.I don’t know.”

I kissed her. I had nothing to say. But she did need to know she was held, and loved. She relaxed into my arms this time, and there was a moment when it seemed she would roll back, pulling me down on top of her. But she drew her head away, and looked into my eyes.

“I just want to say there are a whole lot of things that can go wrong in the universe. Jennifer’s eighteen. And she’s very horny. Horny for you, sure, but she’s also just horny in general.”

“What makes you say that? I mean, horny for me, specifically?”

“I watched her leave, the last time you spanked her. She was absolutely … blissed out. I know we’re not the same person, Jennifer and I, but I do know, close enough, what she’s feeling. Because I’ve watched her and heard her, and I’ve been exactly in her place.”

“True enough.”

“I promise you, from experience as well as observation, she wants you to show her how sex works, to make her undress for you so you can hurt her. She wants to be disciplined. It’s sexy and hot, and it makes her feel singled out. It make her know she’s special.”

“Well, she is.”

“So she should be. Sir. She wants you to spank her again, soon. Tomorrow would be good. And she wants the cane. Well, it’s more that she wants to experience the cane. To be a girl under your discipline. And, a little later but not too much later, for you to take her and teach her.”

I said, “So. I want you to make an appointment for Miss Perch to see me after school tomorrow. That should help her to feel singled out. And special.”

“After school tomorrow, for Jennifer. Spanking or the cane?”

“Don’t know. I’ll ask her teachers how she’s been behaving. That will decide it. Probably a spanking. With a warning that it’s the cane next time.””

“Watch her make sure there’s a next time. And soon. And after that you should definitely fuck her. She’s longing for that to happen. She’s impatient.”

I nodded. I’d felt that too, about Jennifer’s reactions over my knee. “And I should make it happen.”

“Yes. Soon. And you should make sure its special.”

“Um, Maddie. What happened to you, when you knocked on the door? And he let you in and saw you? All messed up, my poor girl?”

I kissed the tip of his cock [Maddie said], and it suddenly bounced up like a live thing that I’d disturbed. He made no sound, but he was shaking just a little, just like I was. I kissed that tip again, letting my lips enfold it. He gasped. So I was doing it right.

What surprised me was the softness. I mean it was hard, but the skin was soft, like it had peach fuzz or something. It doesn’t, but that was how it felt. I kissed it, and then opened my mouth to take him in a little more. So he couldn’t go flicking up out of my … reach.

“Take it, take me a little deeper, Maddie.” It wasn’t the voice I knew, that had commanded me when he’d spanked me, and that meant I couldn’t think of disobeying him. This voice was lighter. There was a constriction in his throat. He seemed younger. He needed me, and I could hear it.

So I kissed that tip again, smiling. I liked it. I liked him. And I was in control here. Then I opened, and felt him push his cock in. He was trying to control himself, but he couldn’t help that forward movement, that first thrust, I was sure. I took his head, his glans, all the way in, and ringed my lips on him just past his foreskin.

I knew two things about how to do this. I licked the underside of his glans, and he moaned. Then I sucked, hard, my cheeks hollow between my teeth and he was silent. But his whole body shook.

He said, “Good, that’s good. You’re a good girl.”

Then I felt his hand on the back of my head, and he pushed me forward, slowly, until I had most of him in. I was a little scared. What if he rammed me forward, and I couldn’t take him all of his cock into me? Would I choke? Would he punish me? My bottom still burned, from the spanking he’d just given me.

He said, “I’m going to move for a while. It’s called fucking your mouth. Now put your hand on the base of my cock. Good, that’s it. This way I won’t go too deep for you. It’s your first time, isn’t Maddie?”

I spoke to his cock. I didn’t want to take my mouth off it. “Yes, sir.” My voice sounded muffled. I was talking with my mouth full. If it hadn’t been so strange and so hot, I’d have thought that was funny.

“Good. Good girl. I’m glad I’m your first. Now, the next part is simple. I move in your mouth, and you suck. You suck hard. If you take your mouth off my cock, or I don’t think you’re trying, Maddie, I’ll cane you. Hard, and I won’t stop when you’re crying. I won’t bother counting, but you won’t get less than 50, across your bottom and legs. Understood?”

His voice had deepened again. Maybe I liked that voice better. “Yes sir!”

Then his hand pushed my mouth onto him, and he thrust forward to meet me, and I sucked him, hard as I could, as he’d told me. And he fucked my mouth, and the only sound now was my heartbeat, and my breathing though my nose, and his occasional gasps of pleasure.

Sometimes he pushed a little deeper, and although I had my hand on his cock, like he’d told me, I mostly let him. I liked that I could feel my bottom, so hotly punished, so swollen and burning, while I served him.

We’d sped up. His cock was moving in my mouth fast now, and it wanted to get as deep as it could. It was like his body was controlled by some other force, not him. And I tasted something salty, and then he put his other hand to my cheek, trying to be gentle, and he said, “swallow every drop, girl, or you’ll get that caning.”

I was going to nod, but suddenly there was a spurt of salty, slippery stuff, hitting the back of my throat, and in less that a second my mouth was full of it. I swallowed, and swallowed, because I knew that if I gave him an excuse to cane me, in this moment he’d be merciless. Eventually I’d swallowed it all, I think, and his cock had slowed, still thrusting in my mouth but without the same urgency. I followed my instinct and kept sucking, cleaning the shaft of his cock and swallowing my of his fluid, his sperm, as it came.

I put my hand on her cotton-cocooned right buttock and squeezed, to remind her that there was nothing to stop her from getting her morning spanking all over again. Jennifer shivered, her soft skin and firm muscles trembling under my hand. She understood that I was threatening to repeat her spanking. But she liked my hand.

“Some people get spanked regularly and often, Jennifer-” She made a wordless noise, not of protest but of recognition. Jennifer had learned that that was the kind of girl she was. “That’s the world you’re in now. Now, girls like you often need aftercare. And if they’re been good after their spanking they should get what they need. Does that sound sensible, Jennifer?”

There was a pause. She was looking for the trap. But it was hiding in plain sight. Eventually she said, “No, that does sound reasonable, sir.”

“Now, Jennifer. You’ve got a sore bottom, but you’ve been a good girl all day, I’m told. So you can have something that can take the pain away.”

“Sir?” She sounded shocked. Her imagination was, of course, running wild. She was seconds away either from protesting or making some declaration of consent or need. The latter was more likely but I didn’t want her to do that today. She needed more time, to build up a deep and desperate need before I’d let her consent.

“It’s a natural oil mixture, with aloe vera, lavender, arnica and cocoanut oil for vitamin E. It cools the spanked area and takes away most of the pain, and sets about healing the skin. To let you sleep easy, and, well, let you sit down again without it being awkward. It’s for girls who get into trouble a lot but they’re good girls really. Would you like that?”

Nude young woman applying lotion to her bottom

There was a longer pause. Jennifer knew she wouldn’t be applying the mixture herself. That left strong, male hands kneading her flesh, healing the skin I’d hurt earlier that day.

I suspected that would appeal in its own right, and anyway it’d be better than going home with a sore bottom.

Finally and bravely Jennifer said, “Yes, I’d like that. You mean like a massage. I like those.”

I collected the tube of oils from the corner of my desk, where it lived with the pens pencils and felt tips and paperclips. I put a dab on the lowest vertebrae in the small of her back. A subdued, noctural animal sound from Jennifer. She was so needy, so aroused.

I put my fingers in the upper hem of her panties, and pulled them, not down, but away from her skin, revealing a perfect bottom, unlikely to be quite as sore as she’d claimed but still prettily pink from her spanking.

Jennifer groaned. “Oh sir, please. Can you leave my panties up?”

“Have I already seen your bottom, Jennifer? Quite recently?”

“Um. Well, yes, sir. You did. You have.”

“So is it something about your panties, then? Have you got a laptop hidden down there?”

She laughed. “No, sir.”

“So you’re fussing, girl. All right, you can help me. You take them down for me. All the way to your knees, please.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jennifer reached back obediently. The panties came down, slowly, as if she felt it was a gift that should be savoured inch by inch. She pulled the bunched cotton past the fleshiest part of her bottom and tugged them all the way down as instructed.

She was a spanked angel, smelling of musk and almond flour, half naked over my desk.

I’d suggested to Jennifer that she might want to do a little more, to prove not just to me but to herself that she really was a good girl.

She seemed to accept the principle. But I expected some dramatic and florid ideas were passing through her head, while she tried to stare out my carpet.

“Well, I know a way, Jennifer. You fully earned that spanking you just got.”

I paused and gazed at her, so that she knew something was expected. After the briefest of pauses she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Correct. But you can gain some real credit with me, if you show you’re ready to learn discipline properly. I think you have some things to own up to, don’t you?”

Jennifer looked beseeching. She wanted to deny it, but I’d already shown too many signs of omniscience. She looked from side to side, then said, in the quietest voice imaginable, “Yes. Sir.”

“And, you know, you can take punishments that you haven’t earned yet. So that things can be a little easier for you when the time comes?”

She frowned, considering that. It seemed to make sense to her, which, frankly, it didn’t to me. Her thinking was being influenced, as it should, by what her pussy wanted. I said, still very seriously, “That could mean additional spankings, or maybe the strap.”

She looked at me, her face back to its natural color. Something in her had relaxed. I said, “Do you know what a tawse is?” She looked blank. “No, you wouldn’t, I suppose. Anyway, those are options. Think on it.”

The bell rang.

“Ah, end of the first period. You’re done now. You’d better get going — I know you won’t want to be late for another class.” I let the smile get through, this time. I mouthed, silently, the word, “Or.”

She smiled back at me. The ideas implied by that “or” had pleased her. She stood up then, and I walked her to the door, as if she were a parent. But just before I opened the door that led from Maddie’s office to the corridor, and freedom for Jennifer, I touched her back lightly.

She stopped, perhaps wondering if I would drop my hand to comfort her hurt. Instead I whispered into her ear. “Do think about earning that extra credit, Jennifer. It will be good for you.”

She flushed again. “Yes, sir.” And so I lowered my hand and cupped her left buttock. It was a caress, and she leaned into my hand, liking the contact while not wanting to admit it was happening.I let my hand drift over to hold her right buttock. She was perfectly still, not even breathing.

After a few soft, sweet seconds I made it a smack. Affectionate, but more like a headmaster’s punishing hand. I smiled at her, and she tilted her head up at me. The idea that we should kiss hung in the air.

Then I opened the door, and patted her bottom one last time. “Hurry to class, now, girl.”

She walked out into the corridor, not looking back.

The photo-copier started again. Maddie had been listening. I frowned. She and I would have words about that. I shut her office door and, after a second’s consideration, locked it. Then I walked over to the photocopy room.

Jennifer couldn’t believe that she’d thanked me for spanking her, but her words still hung in the air. Her face blushed as furiously as her bottom. She squirmed, and her little skirt rode up to the tops of her thighs, exposing that white-cotton gusset between.

Jennifer’s squirming was … hypnotic

She’d have to stand up to pull the skirt down, and she knew she didn’t have permission. She couldn’t imagine asking for permission. So she could only blush, sometimes looking down and sometimes staring, uncertainly, into my eyes.

I smiled at her. “That’s better. The thing is, Jennifer, you’re a good girl. Really.”

I looked at her. Jennifer was still blushing furiously and trying hard to keep still. But she nodded. She was a good girl.

“Now, you get very good marks, Jennifer.” She squirmed again, her little pussy again flashing whitely between plump thighs. It was the word “marks” that had set her off. I said, “You have a very good record. Your marks, yes, your marks, are very good. You’ve won awards, and you take part in extra-curricular activities. It’s quite clear that achievement is important to you. Isn’t it?”

Jennifer closed her knees tightly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, you’ve got a clean slate as far as I’m concerned. You did wrong, you took your punishment bravely. And now there’s nothing on your record. What do you say?”

“Ummm… Thank you, sir.”

Mr fucking Scary, that’s who

“Good girl. Though if you’re late again, I’ll cane you. That’s fair warning. But you, Jennifer, you may be thinking that one spanking isn’t enough to make things right. Not in your own mind.”

I looked at her. Her hands were white. Her thighs trembled, knees slightly apart. It was as though I was looking at her half-naked again. I laid down a card. “In fact, you might prefer to go above and beyond to impress me that you really are well behaved. Wouldn’t you?”

She frowned. I was right, but she hadn’t expected this. “Yes, uh, yes, sir.”

“But you might be at a loss as to how to do so.”

Jennifer watched me, fascinated. Then she nodded, and looked at my carpet again. She’d seen a lot of it, in the last half-hour.

Jennifer had her side to me, hands hovering about the hems of her panties. She’d seen herself in the glass of my cabinet, and the glowing red of her bottom had embarrassed her. Confused, she turned to face me, panties still around her lower thighs. Her face flamed redder, once she’d forgot the warm ache in her bottom for long enough to realize the vision she was presenting me with.

I picked up the wooden chair I’d been sitting in while she was over my knee.

I put it back in the corner, and turned in time to glimpse that perfect little pouch, snugly cased in white cotton again, before her skirt dropped, cutting off that vision.

Like a curtain falling. The show really was over.

I sat in my office chair behind my desk and watched her.

She had her eyes on the floor while she fumbled her jacket back on. For a second she hesitated over the buttons. She was feeling naked, exposed. She thought better of it and dropped her hands to her sides. The silence lengthened. Eventually she looked up and met my gaze.

“Better,” I said. “Now. Have a seat.”

She was startled. She’d thought this was over and she’d be allowed to retreat. For some reason she raised her hands to her tousled hair, horrified about something, but she dropped them again.

She said down on the leather armchair I used for interviews with parents and, it seemed, just-been-spanked girls. She sat, the skirt halfway up her thighs. then shifted slightly. The skirt rode higher. Even a soft chair was reminding her that her bottom was sore, and the cool leather was contrasting with the heat of her bottom and upper thighs.

I was sure she’d remember that detail, perhaps tonight, one-handed and wet-fingered in bed. Lying on her stomach, I imagined her, bottom rising and falling while she gasped and moaned. Until she froze, arched, then moved again, spasmodically, as though she were being kicked. I wondered what her orgasm noise was like. I realised it was on my fucket-list: I wanted to hear that moan for myself.

I said, “So, Jennifer. You’ve been spanked for some very stupid behavior. Thinking you could get away with cutting classes. That was stupid. But you’re not stupid. So why? Do you like getting spanked?”

That was a dangerous question, pretending innocence. She pretended too. Mouth slightly open, eyes wide open, shaking her head. I repressed a smile.

I considered asking, “Are you sure?” To watch her denial some more. But the comedy was good as it was. “So that’s the skipping classes dealt with. Right?”

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